Stony stared at a cadaver rigid in his bed. An oatmeal-textured catastrophe lay on his chin, chest and blanket. His eyes burned into Stony like a black fire. "Hey look, that's an orderly's job. I'm a lifter." Stony pointed to the name-and-job tag on his breast pocket.

"Meestah De Coco, ah don care what you are. You work in de hospital, you got to do all jobs."

"Oh yeah? When do I get to hire an' fire nurses?"

She glared at him for a second, then marched out of the room. Behind him in the room came a high-pitched cackle. Stony wheeled around.

"Das sweet!" A short, thirtyish Puerto Rican in a gray custodian's outfit was mopping the floor, a galvanized steel bucket with a wringer attachment at his feet. "Dat bitch sometin' else!" He slapped the mop around, making semicircles on the already immaculate floor.

Stony grimaced as he approached Mr. Beckerman. A stainless steel bowl half filled with an antiseptic-smelling green bubbly solution lay on the radiator. A small yellow sponge floated on top like a dead fish. Stony took the bowl over to the bed, squeezed out the sponge and took two half swipes at Mr. Beckerman's face. He avoided looking into his eyes. The stench made him tear. He dropped the sponge into the bowl, splashing the bed. "Shit!"

"Aw, fuck dat chump!" The custodian winked.

"I can't swing it, Jack." Stony slapped his thighs in exasperation. Mr. Beckerman blinked.

"Hey!" The custodian tapped Stony on the shoulder. "Look." He placed the bowl on the floor next to his bucket. "Take off his shirt, man." As Stony gingerly removed Beckerman's pajama top, the custodian wrung out his mop, splashed it in the steel bowl and then proceeded to swab down Beckerman's face and chest. He wrung out the mop, dunked it into the remainder of the soapy solution and gave him a second coat. Beckerman's eyes were blazing with outrage. Stony was caught halfway between laughing and crying. "Das all dere is to it, man." He wrung out his mop again, flung it over his shoulder, stooped, picked up his bucket and left the room. Stony grabbed a towel off the radiator, patted Beckerman's dripping face and chest. He wouldn't look into Beckerman's eyes on a bet. When he finished he tore ass out of the room.

***

"Lifter!" Resisting the temptation to duck into the john. Stony walked into the room. A young nurse leaned over another stiff, naked this time, who looked like Beckerman's twin. "Lifter, I need some help here. Mr. Garro had a little accident. Can you just lift him a sec so I can pull the sheets out?" As Stony headed to the bed someone behind him clawed his sleeve. Stony jumped. The old woman was about four-foot-six. Her hospital gown hung down, revealing withered breasts the size and shape of Santa Clara prunes—Stony looked. Her face had more cracks and crevasses than the Grand Canyon. She was almost bald—the scattered wisps of white hair on her scalp reminded Stony of an empty cotton candy machine before it's cleaned. She squeezed his arm with an anguished urgency. "Be careful."